


My Favourite Destination on the Trip

by irishpadfoot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Europe Trip Visits Paris, F/M, I'm surprised this isn't a more popular AU idea, Spideychelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishpadfoot/pseuds/irishpadfoot
Summary: Yet another too-positive fix-it fic. What If... The Europe Trip HAD gone to Paris?





	My Favourite Destination on the Trip

“One… two… three…”

“Ned, are you seriously planning on counting all the steps?” Peter asked, a little irritably. Maybe it was the nerves about his plan, but he felt on edge.

“Well do _you_ know how many steps there are?” Ned replied, stopping on the fourth step.

“One thousand, six hundred, and sixty five.”

Both Peter and Ned turned to look at MJ, who was stood behind them, waiting pointedly.

“But we can only walk up seven hundred and ten of them.”

“Oh.” Ned seemed a little put out.

“Plus, we’ve already started.”

“What?!”

MJ gestured over her shoulder towards the ticket booth.

“Nine steps up to the ticket booth.”

Ned frowned.

“They don’t count.”

“According to the Eiffel Tower website they do. Seven hundred and ten steps to the top. Nine steps to the ticket booth, three hundred and twenty eight steps to the first floor, three hundred and forty steps to the second floor, then eighteen steps to the elevator platform, and another fifteen to the platform at the top. Then there’s something like nine hundred and ninety steps from the second floor to the top, but they’re closed to the public.”

Peter looked between Ned and MJ, eyebrows raised. Ned caught his gaze and frowned.

“Peter, do _you_ think they count?”

He shrugged.

“I mean, it seems like they shouldn’t,” Peter admitted, “But if the official website includes them…”

“What’s the hold-up?!”

Peter, Ned, and MJ turned to glare at Flash, who was stood, phone out to livestream his walk up the tower. Privately, Peter hoped he’d drop his phone off the second level.

“A debate over the number of steps,” Ned said, sighing.

“Why don’t we _climb them_ and find out?”

Peter hated to agree with Flash on _anything_, but he really wanted to get up their quickly. His heart was already starting to pound just thinking about the confession. Luckily, the actual walking wouldn’t be likely to affect him, but the anxiety might give him heart failure. Without another word, Peter began to walk up the stairs. He could _feel_ MJ’s eyes on the back of his neck. Did she _know_?!

* * *

“What’s up with you?”

Peter glanced at MJ nervously.

“What do you mean?” he tried to keep his voice steady.

MJ gestured over her shoulder, where Flash was somehow still live-streaming, keeping up an almost constant chatter. Peter was actually pretty impressed that he wasn’t out of breath.

“No sarcastic comeback for Flash?”

Peter shrugged.

“We were holding up the rest of the class. We needed to start moving at some point.”

MJ was still looking at him. He could see it out of the corner of his eyes, even though he was determinedly looking at the steps in front of him. _549_. Almost at the second level, where they’d stop for a quick snack, then they taking the elevator up to the top in two groups. And then…

“Hey, Peter!”

Ned’s whisper wasn’t particularly subtle. Peter and MJ turned back to him, where he was walking hand-in-hand with Betty, counting the steps aloud.

“Yeah?”

“I was just thinking, wouldn’t it be cool to get a photo from the top of the Eiffel tower?”

Peter tried not to glare at him. Sure, climbing up the Eiffel tower _would_ be a good photo opportunity, but he shouldn’t just say it in front of the class!

“Babe, that’s what we’re doing.”

Peter tried not to laugh at Betty’s misunderstanding.

“No, babe, I mean, like, the _top_.”

“How would Peter do that?” MJ asked, sharply curious.

Ned glanced at Peter.

“Like, in general, I mean. Not Peter specifically.”

“Well, how would you do it anyway?” MJ didn’t seem willing to let up. Ned was almost quailing under her intense questioning.

“A drone?”

MJ shook her head.

“Drones aren’t allowed near the Eiffel tower.”

“I guess Spider-Man could get a good photo,” Betty pointed out, “Wasn’t there that thing about him taking a photo from the top of the Empire State Building?”

Peter wasn’t physically crossing his fingers, but he was _really_ wishing the conversation would move on.

“Yeah,” MJ said eventually, “I guess he could.”

Peter turned away from Ned to keep walking up the stairs, and caught her looking at him curiously. Did she _know_?!

* * *

“Okay, guys, two groups of six. Mister Dell will take Tyler, Sebastian, Zoha, Yasmin, Zach, and Josh, and I’ll take the rest of you when they get back down.”

Peter sighed. He appreciated Mr. Harrington making the effort to keep friends together, but a quick head-count raised two problems. Flash Thompson and Brad _fucking_ Davis. This could get awkward.

He decided to avoid the awkwardness as much as possible by running through the Plan in his head as they waited for Mr. Dell’s group to come down, assuring himself he’d done everything right. Just checking each thing off calmed him down. Maybe the Plan wouldn’t work, but it certainly wouldn’t be because he’d messed it up.

Hopefully.

“I feel like I’ve got something on my face, Parker.”

Peter hadn’t even realised he was staring at MJ. Maybe it was just because he was thinking about the Plan that he’d unconsciously been watching her. Probably, it was because he always seemed to be watching her.

“Oh, no,” Peter shook his head hurriedly, “No, I was just…”

“Staring?” MJ challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“No! I mean, not intentionally. I was just zoning out, and–”

“I’m messing with you,” MJ said lightly, half-smiling, “You’re totally out of it today. Bad night sleep?”

Actually, Peter hadn’t slept last night, and it wasn’t even because of the rather suspicious-looking stains on the bed. He just hadn’t been able to sleep. Stressed about the next day, he’d spent most of the evening writing out everything that could possibly go right, and everything that could possibly go wrong, and how he’d try to fix everything that could go wrong, if it _did_ go wrong, and… And then he’d run out of paper on the notepad the hotel had left for him.

“Peter?”

Peter suddenly realised he hadn’t replied. He couldn’t even exactly remember the question.

“Oh, yeah,” Ned said, jumping into the gap in the conversation to cover Peter’s back, as usual, “Peter was telling me all about it this morning. Got no sleep. And to be honest? Same. This has _got_ to have been the worst hotel on the trip.”

MJ frowned, thinking about it.

“I don’t know, the Hotel DeMatteis was literally sinking.”

“I mean yeah, but that was in Venice. Of course it was sinking.”

MJ snorted at that, shaking her head lightly.

“Okay, I’ll give you that, and I suppose the beds weren’t as bad.”

“Yeah, the only real problem was the…”

“The sinking?”

Ned nodded.

“Yeah, the sinking.”

“The Belleville, officially worse than a hotel that is sinking.”

“Okay! Group two! Elevator!” Mr. Harrington seemed like he wanted to get this part of the trip over and done with as quickly as possible. According to MJ’s accidental-overhearing-how-_dare_-you-call-it-eavesdropping, he was very much _not_ a fan of heights. Exactly why he’d decided to chaperone a trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower was a mystery so far beyond the understanding of the three of them, it even foiled MJ’s determination to know things.

* * *

Maybe it was because Peter Parker had the worst luck in the world, nay, the universe, _nay_, the multiverse, but as the six students rearranged themselves getting into the rather cramped elevator, Brad _fucking_ Davis somehow ended up between Peter and MJ. Not that Peter was planning on doing the whole confession thing in the elevator, or even in front of the whole class, but Peter simply enjoyed hearing MJ make sarcastic comments about disasters under her breath. He wasn’t sure if it was specifically elevators that MJ knew the injury and death statistics for, but knowing her, he doubted it. He also doubted that Brad _fucking_ Davis would appreciate the quips.

With a jolt, the elevator started up.

* * *

It took all of three minutes for Peter to get annoyed at Brad’s almost incessant chattering, and he really didn’t think it was because of the stress. Brad simply wouldn’t shut up. He seemed determined to pull MJ into a conversation, and MJ seemed equally determined not to be pulled into a conversation. The result was Brad continually coming up with conversation starters, there being an awkward pause, MJ making a vaguely non-commital noise, then Brad either continuing the conversation on his own, or coming up with another conversation starter for MJ to ignore. If Peter wasn’t so annoyed, he’d feel bad for Brad. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t, but he’d certainly feel _embarrassed_ for him. It was painful to listen to, and Peter was incredibly grateful when the elevator finally stopped at the top observation deck, the grille slid open, and the group spilled out onto the observation deck.

“Okay, this is _very_ high up.”

Peter tried not to laugh at Mr. Harrington, who was – quite bravely, in Peter’s opinion – stood at the railing, clutching on for dear life.

“Hey, Peter?”

Peter turned, looking at Ned.

“Please say you’ll catch me if I fall?”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah, sure.”

Then the exact meaning of what Ned was asking hit him.

“I mean, please try _not_ to fall off the Eiffel Tower. Not just for the secret, but I don’t wanna risk messing it up. The whiplash could... Just... try not to fall.”

Ned nodded, not looking entirely reassured.

“Yeah... yeah, that sounds sensible.”

Peter caught sight of MJ – who was apparently still trying to avoid Brad without a confrontation – and felt himself tense. Ned noticed as well, turning to follow Peter’s gaze to MJ.

“It’ll be fine, dude. Just be yourself!”

Peter tried not to jump off the Eiffel Tower. _Just be yourself_. Really useful advice.

“Tell her how you feel, and it’ll be _fine_.”

Ned was definitely trying to help reassure Peter, but his mind was just fixating on everything that could go wrong.

“Tell who how he feels, babe?” Betty had apparently returned from her walk around the observation deck.

“Oh, tell MJ how he feels about her.”

Peter stared at Ned. He could _see_ the realisation dawn on Ned about what he’d just let slip.

“Oh, uh, oops?”

“Wait, MJ doesn’t know?”

Now Peter was staring at Betty. _Doesn’t know?_ Was it _really_ that obvious?

“D-doesn’t know what?” Peter asked, feeling light-headed.

“Please, Peter, it’s _so_ obvious. I’m surprised the two of you aren’t already dating. You’d be _perfect_ together.”

“Wouldn’t they though?” Ned said excitedly, “The soft friendly one and the mysterious and sarcastic one? Actually perfect.”

Peter looked between the two of them, absolutely speechless.

“Hold up. As much as I agree with you guys, can we not talk about this?” Peter begged, “It was _supposed_ to be a secret,” he pointed out, throwing a look at Ned, who only partially looked embarrassed.

“Well you’re going to tell MJ anyway, aren’t you?” Ned pointed out, “So it doesn’t really matter if anyone knows.”

“It does!” Peter hissed, as Flash walked past, still rambling away into the camera, “Because if she doesn’t like me back, I _really_ don’t want to be reminded of my fuck-up every five minutes.”

Ned and Betty looked at him.

“Peter, she’s _going_ to like you back.”

“Yeah, it’ll be _fine_. Like I keep telling you! You’ve got this!”

Peter nodded, swallowing nervously.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got this.”

He watched as Ned and Betty moved over to one of the viewfinders dotted around on the railing, and tried to ignore the less-than-subtle glances they were throwing him.

_Time to find MJ._

Well, finding her was the easy part. She was leaning against the railing, still responding vaguely to Brad’s chatter. What he really needed, was to find the courage to walk over there and ask to talk to her.

_Or,_ he could just lie.

Peter thought for a moment, figuring out the best excuse, and the best wording, then took a deep, steadying breath, and walked up to MJ.

“Hey, MJ, Ned and Betty have found a building they can’t identify, and we thought you might have some idea.”

Brad was glaring at him with almost unconcealed dislike, but Peter’s eyes were fixed on MJ. And, more particularly, the way she’d perked up when he’d arrived. It was like he’d just thrown her a lifeline. Immediately, she schooled her face into the usual expression of vague disinterest, and shrugged.

“Sure, let’s see.”

And without a parting word, MJ walked away from Brad. Peter almost wanted to smirk at him, but thought that was a bit unfair – even if he had tried to humiliate him – so settled with ignoring him and quickly walking after MJ.

“Nice rescue, Parker.”

Peter grinned.

“You seemed like you were running out of ways to shut down conversations,” he said lightly. MJ threw a look his way, almost looking offended.

“Oh please, I have hundreds more ways to shut down conversations.”

Peter blinked, before shrugging.

“Actually, I’m not that surprised.”

MJ gave him a rare smile.

“But I’d hate to have used up all my shut-downs on _Brad_.”

Peter grinned at that, before hurriedly hiding it when MJ looked at him. He wasn’t entirely sure what the dismissive _Brad_ meant, but he liked it.

“So, did Ned _actually_ find a mysterious building?”

“I have no idea,” Peter admitted, “We could ask him?”

MJ snorted, glancing back at Brad quickly, before turning back and spotting Ned and Betty, almost cuddled together to look into the same viewfinder, then shrugging.

“Nah, let’s not interrupt… their…” She trailed off, gesturing at them pointedly.

Peter had to agree, they really didn’t look like they wanted to be disturbed. And, to be perfectly honest, neither did Peter.

“Got any good photos?” Peter asked. MJ glanced at him, shrugging.

“Of the view? Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“Do you want me to take a photo of you up here?” Peter offered.

MJ thought about it, before shrugging and pulling out her camera.

“Sure, why not?” She handed the camera to him carefully, then walked over to an empty stretch of railing and leaned back against it casually. Peter held the camera up, fiddling with the focus.

“Smile,” he said, cheesily. He almost dropped the camera when she actually did, giving him a wide, genuine smile. Then it took a moment for him to remember that he had to take a photo. It clicked, and Peter lowered the camera to look at the photo. His breath caught as he looked down at it.

“So, does it look terrible?”

Peter glanced up at MJ, who was suddenly in front of him, waiting for her camera.

“No! No, it looks…” Peter caught himself before he said what he really thought. _Stunning. Beautiful. Incredible._ MJ plucked the camera from his hands and looked at the photo. A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

“Huh. You’re not a half-bad photographer.”

Peter blinked. That wasn’t half as back-handed a compliment as MJ usually offered.

“Uh, thanks?”

MJ glanced up at him and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then closed it again, looking back down at the picture.

“I like it.” Peter was taken aback by the surprise in her voice.

“Now you.”

Peter frowned, confused. Then MJ gently pushed him towards the railing. Peter went, still taken aback. MJ raised the camera and snapped a picture, before glancing at the photo and laughing.

“Try looking a bit less confused, dork.”

Peter hurriedly rearranged his face into a still-slightly-stunned smile just in time for the second photo. MJ assessed the photo, then nodded, satisfied.

“It looks good!”

“Do you want me to take one of the two of you?”

Peter and MJ both jumped at Mr. Harrington’s voice. Then what he’d actually said sank in.

“Oh, n–” Peter began, before MJ cut him off.

“Yeah, sure.” And with that, she handed the camera over and hurried to stand next to Peter, who was feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.

MJ leant against the railing next to him, so close that Peter could _almost_ feel her. He grinned uncertainly at the camera, waiting for the click of the shutter.

_Should he do it now?_ Get Mr. Harrington to capture it on camera?

_Click._

And like that, the moment was gone.

“Okay, guys! Time to head back down!” Mr. Harrington called as he walked over and handed MJ the camera, “Back to a slightly saner height,” he added under his breath.

“Uh, Mr. Harrington?” Peter asked, following his teacher towards the elevator, “Could MJ and I stay up here a bit longer?”

Mr. Harrington looked at him uncertainly.

“Why on earth would you want to stay up here _longer_?” He asked in disbelief, before shaking his head, “I mean, whatever for, Peter?”

Peter thought for a moment.

“Oh, MJ wanted to get a picture of her alone at the top of the Eiffel Tower, without all the tourists.”

Mr. Harrington nodded slowly.

“We wouldn’t be long,” Peter said, pushing his advantage, “We’d just come down in the next elevator. But that way everyone else doesn’t have to wait around up here.”

It worked like a charm. Mr. Harrington looked visibly relieved.

“Oh, yes, of course. That…” He nodded, “That makes sense.”

By then, the rest of the class had crowded into the elevator, leaving Peter and Mr. Harrington by the door, and a very curious MJ frowning at Peter.

Peter spotted Brad, stuck in the middle of the packed elevator, and felt a flash of smugness as Mr. Harrington stepped into the elevator, and the grille slid shut.

As the lift started to descend, Peter could just make out Mr. Harrington explaining Peter’s excuse to… presumably Brad, considering the furious glare he’d given Peter. Peter risked a glance at MJ, who was watching him, waiting for an explanation.

* * *

And like that, it was just Peter and MJ, alone, by some stroke of luck, on top of the Eiffel Tower. Just like the Plan. Peter’s mouth was dry. MJ was still looking at him curiously. He gestured over to the railing, feeling impossibly awkward, and the two of them walked over together.

There was a long silence.

“Was there some reason in particular you wanted us to stay behind up here, or were you just trying to save me from yet more of Brad’s _riveting _conversation in the elevator?”

MJ’s voice was teasing, but Peter could sense _something_ underneath it. A slight tension in her smile. It made him nervous, and he wasn’t sure if it was in a good way.

“MJ… I…” Peter really should have written a script. He’d written out the plan, but maybe Aunt May’s advice had confused him. He’d tried to be spontaneous. He’d assumed that when the time came, the words would come. But they weren’t. He glanced at MJ, worried she’d think he was an idiot, and was taken aback to see her watching him carefully, not a trace of judgement in her expression.

“You okay?”

Peter nodded instinctively, then paused, swallowed, and shook his head.

“No. I mean, maybe.” God, he sounded like an idiot. “I’m just trying to think of the words.”

MJ nodded, as if this was perfectly reasonable, and leant against the railing patiently.

Peter closed his eyes and focused on breathing. When he opened them, he realised he’d started to talk.

“I know this is probably just me being stupid, and…” He trailed off, then started again. “We’re great friends, right? And I don’t want to mess it up, because… well, you’re basically my best friend, apart from Ned. And I really don’t want to change that, but…”

He risked a glance at MJ then, the words on his lips, and saw her watching him intently.

“I really like you.”

It was done. The truth was out. Peter held out the box for her to take, or leave.

MJ didn’t reach for the box. She didn’t reply to his rather blunt confession. Peter wasn’t entirely sure she was still breathing.

“Uh, Em–”

The last syllable of the name was cut off as MJ leant forwards, pressing her lips against Peter’s. Peter’s mind went blank. After a heartbeat, a thought formed. _MJ was kissing him?_ As soon as that thought had formed, another appeared in response. _Kiss her back, idiot!_

Before Peter could, the kiss was over. Peter’s eyes flickered open and focused on MJ, so close their noses were almost touching.

“I’m sorry,” MJ said, almost silently, already turning away, “That was stupid. I should g–”

Peter caught her arm lightly before she could leave.

“Don’t.”

MJ tensed. And like that, Peter’s hand vanished as he let go as if he had been burned. She took a step towards the elevator.

“Please?”

The word was so quiet, it was almost lost in the wind, but it stopped MJ in her tracks.

“Don’t think you need to leave,” Peter said, before hurriedly adding, “But don’t think you need to stay if you don’t want to. Just…”

Again, Peter held out the box. This time, MJ took it, holding it carefully.

“What is it?”

Peter frowned.

“Oh, it’s… it’s… well, it’s just a gift. Got it in Venice. Thought you might–”

Peter stopped talking dead, staring at MJ. _Was she crying?_

“MJ, are you okay?”

She turned away, waving the question off.

“I-I’m fine. Just… the wind’s making my eyes water.”

Peter opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again.

“Thank you.” MJ’s voice was wavering almost imperceptibly, but Peter noticed it. “That… means a lot.”

“Do you want to open it?” Peter asked, a little uncertainly. He’d thought about MJ’s likely reactions a lot since he’d come up with the plan, and though they ranged from laughing in his face, to letting him down gently, to hitting him, to kissing him, the whole, kiss him, run away, then cry when given a present was… not on the list.

MJ’s hands moved steadily, carefully opening the box. Peter couldn’t see her expression, but he heard the catch in her breath.

“Peter…”

Peter swallowed nervously. Suddenly, he was struck with possible problems. He hadn’t checked the necklace before he gave it to her. It might have broken since the bus ride. He’d been careful with it, but it was still _possible_. Maybe she just didn’t like necklaces. Maybe she thought it was creepy giving her a flower based on the murder of a woman.

“Black Dahlia.” The words were whispered almost reverently. “Like…”

“The murder.” Peter said, before immediately kicking himself. He was interrupting. He should just shut up.

MJ turned to look at him, blinking her eyes rapidly.

“I… It’s…”

Peter was helpless. He had _no_ idea what to say, and he really didn’t want to say the wrong thing and hurt her.

“Thank you.”

He could only nod. He could just imagine the next words. _It’s beautiful _but… Or maybe _I can’t take it_. It certainly _sounded_ final. Like a thanks for a final gift as friends, because he’d ruined it by expecting too much.

And then Peter realised MJ was still standing there. With him.

“Can you help me put it on? I don’t want to drop it.”

Peter opened his mouth, then shut it again.

He tried again. Open, pause, shut.

“Peter?”

With a jolt, _Peter.exe_ restarted. He closed the distance between them – a distance which had seemed far and symbolic – with barely a step, and then he was beside her, and she was offering him the necklace, and _wow, this was intimate_.

MJ cleared her throat, and Peter realised she’d been holding her hair out of the way, and he’d been stood there like an idiot holding the necklace.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he slid the necklace around her neck, fiddling with the clasp, “I’ve just been worrying about this for a long time.”

Maybe it was because he was overwhelmed about being so close to MJ, and doing such an intimate thing as putting her necklace on for her, but he hadn’t even realised he was talking. In a flash, his words caught up with him and he flushed.

“I-I mean…”

“You’ve been _worrying_ about this?” MJ asked, turning to look at him, but not stepping back. Peter nodded wordlessly.

“Why?”

“I didn’t know if you felt the same way,” he admitted.

_Thud._

For someone so skinny, MJ’s smacks were strong. Peter’s arm actually _hurt_.

“You absolute _idiot_.”

That… was not what Peter had been expecting.

“Are you actually that blind?”

Peter wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.

“A-apparently?”

MJ sighed, an extensive, drawn out, long-suffering sigh.

“Since you’re apparently oblivious about all things girl-related, _I really like you too_, dork. I have for a while now.”

Peter blinked, trying to wrap his head around two bombshells one after another.

“Wait, how long is a while?”

MJ actually _blushed_.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not telling you, don’t ask me again.”

Peter opened his mouth, but the ache in his arm, and the look in MJ’s eyes, made him reconsider.

“Okay, but… _you like me_?”

MJ rolled her eyes.

“Don’t ask me why, because you’re an _idiot_, but yes.”

And this time it was Peter who leant in, heart in his throat. The kiss was as gentle and uncertain as the first. The sound of the elevator caused MJ to start to pull back, but Peter was hit by a flash of inspiration. He leant into the kiss, almost going up onto his toes to keep their lips pressed together.

A very familiar cough pulled Peter out of his euphoria, and he broke the kiss, turning to shoot daggers at Ned, who was stood in the elevator, looking _incredibly_ awkward.

“Uh… Mister… uh… Harrington, wanted to…”

Peter glanced at MJ, who somehow looked composed.

“Sure, yeah. Let’s go. It’s getting cold up here anyway.”

Peter opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat as MJ grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the elevator.

The grille slid shut, and the three of them were stood in silence.

“So…” Ned began.

“Shut up, Leeds,” MJ said immediately.

There was another minute of silence before Ned tried again.

“The plan worked, then?”

“Shut up, Ned,” Peter said jokingly.

There was another beat, and then MJ snorted. By the time they’d arrived back at the second floor, the three of them were almost hanging off each other, laughing.

The grille slid open, and MJ tugged Peter out of the elevator by his hand, chin jutted out and all-but-daring Flash to make a comment. Peter glanced behind him as Ned stepped out and gave him the thumbs up.

_Yeah, the plan worked, all right._


End file.
